


Of Desire and Deceit

by VoluntaryBubblehead



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoluntaryBubblehead/pseuds/VoluntaryBubblehead
Summary: As you and Medic begin to become closer friends, something starts to stir within your mind. Your new feelings frighten you, and much to Medics utter dismay, you start to avoid his presence.





	Of Desire and Deceit

“God damn fuck!” Your voice carries down the hall as you violently fall away from the door, clutching your bruised hand to your chest. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

You can feel your fingers begin to pulsate, each painful beat sending another quick breath to your lips, until you feel yourself growing lightheaded. You lean into your knees, trying to focus through the pain, when you feel a sturdy hand on your back. “Sneak, what’s the matter?”

The German accent is familiar to you, but you can only barely process the owner of the voice through the growing dizziness. “Sneak, calm down.” He speaks softly, fingers running small circles onto your back, his other hand reaching to tilt your head up so that you’re staring into his grey eyes.

He speaks words of comfort, his gentle voice soothing you, the hand on your back never wavering in its ministrations. Eventually, after several minutes of this, your breathing slows enough to allow you your words back. “Medic, I shut my hand in the door.”

He clicks his tongue, shifting your clenched hands slowly. He gives a sympathetic wince at your battered fingers. “Ja, I can see that. An easy fix, don’t you worry.”

You smile. “Thanks. I think I’m okay now.”

You start to stand, but his hand places pressure on your back, keeping you down. He ignores your confused gaze, and his eyes roam your body, noting your slow breathing, checking your now decreasing heart rate, and finally giving you a grin. “Gut, onward then?”

Nodding, you take his help as he pulls you to your feet, holding on tightly to your good hand. You follow him to his infirmary, noticing with some interest that though he drops your hand, he moves his hold to your upper arm. You’re sure it’s in case you begin to hyperventilate again, though the act makes you happy nonetheless. Upon reaching Medic’s sick bay, he gestures for you to hop up onto the cot while he rummages through his supplies. You do as your told, grimacing when you put accidental pressure on your hand. He hears your distressed sound and looks over quickly. “Sneak? Are you alright?”

You wave your good hand. “Yeah, yeah, just the sooner we can get this thing fixed the better.”

He nods. “Right. Of course.”

He seems to find what he was searching for and you can’t help but laugh when you see what appears to be a mini version of the medigun. “It’s adorable!” You giggle, staring down at the gun no larger than a dollar bill.

He matches your smile. “It is, isn’t it? One of my least used devices, sadly, but it’s meant for smaller injuries, useful for travel and whatnot. Now, let me see your fingers.”

You hold up the digits, frowning at their discoloration. Medic places his hand beneath them, pulling the tiny trigger on the mini medigun. You watch a small beam of red light shine down, bathing your hands in a crimson glow, and the purple colors along with the pain begin to disappear. It’s only a few seconds before your fingers look good as new, and Medic switches off the device, taking your hand in his and giving a critical eye. “Good as new.” He declares with a grin, and you stare down at your own fingers, flexing them.

“Nice work, Doc.” You slide off the examination table, about to turn to the door when Medic stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Ah, Sneak. I’ve had an idea.” He hands you the device, and you take it hesitantly. “You are fast on the battlefield, perhaps when you’re not fighting, you could make use of this.”

“Scout’s fast too.” You point out, turning the gun over in your hands.

Medic scoffs. “Trottel. He’s too stupid to use that properly.”

You laugh. “Good point. Thank you, Medic.”

“Ja.” He gives you a pat on the shoulder before a blush tints his cheeks and he pulls back his hand awkwardly. “Well, I’ll be getting back to work.”

He turns to his desk, haphazardly shuffling the papers there, and you pause to consider him only a second before you give a soft ‘good-bye’ and make your way back to your room. Setting the gun onto your dresser, you grab your bag of weapons off the floor where you’d dropped them and proceed out to the training field. You aren’t alone on the field, Pyro off at one end chasing around a moving target with his flamethrower, his giggles audible even from where you stand. Your gaze drags around the area, noting Sniper up on the water tower, rifle aimed right at you. You lift a hand, giving a large wave, which he returns, moving his sights off towards another target somewhere in the other direction.

Meandering around the training field, you hang your bag on a wooden post, sizing up the climbing wall in front of you. Giving your newly mended hand another glance, you’re about to begin your climb when a voice from behind stops you. “Heya, toots!”

You turn with a grin, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall. “Hi, Scout.”

His cocky walk and sideways smile tell you he has an agenda here, and you keep a close eye on those hands of this. “’Bout to do some climbin’?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

He smirks. “How ‘bout a race?”

“To the top?” You stare up at the 60 foot wall, returning his smirk. “Sure.” But you know Scout’s a betting man, so before he can make the offer, you ask, “What’s the wager?”

He chuckles. “You know me too well, Sneak. If I win, you go out on a date with me.”

You expected something like that, but gape nonetheless. “Alright, Scout. And if I win…” You pause, glancing around for a moment. An idea pops into your head, and though you’re sure the repercussions will be terrible, you run with it. “If I win, you kiss Spy.”

The look he gives you is a thing of beauty, and it’s actually a minute before he can respond. “You’re joking, right?”

You shake your head. “Nope. On the lips too, no cheek business.”

“But-”

“So confident that you’ll lose, Scout?”

His mouth shuts at this and he stretches his arms. “Nah, I’m not gonna lose. Better start thinking of what you’re gonna wear on our date, toots.”

You turn to the wall. “Believe me, I’m excited already.”

You both stand in silence for a moment, staring at the wall before you. Scout begins to count. “3, 2, 1.”

The moment the word leaves his lips you begin to climb, mind entirely focused on the wall, each mound and hand hold 100% familiar to you. Unlike a certain arrogant boy, you’ve trained here every day, and a path to the top is clearly marked in your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Scout feet below you, struggling to find leverage. A laugh escapes your mouth, and you can hear his grumbled swears. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the top, and as you pull yourself over the edge, you look down at the boy only half way up. “Pucker up, lover boy!” You shout, and he glares at you, his face already filled with the deepest regret.

As you begin the climb down, you can hear Scout cursing you from the bottom. When your feet finally touch grass again, he corners you against the wall. “I’m not doin’ that!”

You push away his condemning finger. “We made a deal, Scout. Now let’s go find Spy.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

You cross your arms. “Wow, Scout, a sore loser and a liar.”

Your insults bring him to a standstill and he covers his face with a groan. “God damn it, fine.”

You give his head a pat. “After you.”

You grab your bag and follow him as he stalks into the building. “We probably won’t even find him.” He babbles. “Ya know how he is. Always off by him…”

His words die on his lips as you both turn into the living room, finding Spy, Medic, Engie, and Soldier in front of the large television watching some action movie. Scout gives you a pleading look, but you shake your head, pointing a finger towards the group. “Go.” You mouth.

He sighs, a grimace on his face. Shooting you a death glare, he meanders into the room, slowly ambling over to where Spy sat in one of the large easy chairs. He glances up at Scout. “Did you need something?”

Scout wastes no time, much to your surprise, leaning down with lightning speed and planting a quick kiss on Spy’s lips, before repelling with a groan, spitting down onto the floor. While the rest of the room processes what’s happened, Scout marches over to you. You clutch your stomach, laughter bringing you to tears. “Happy, ya pervert?”

Between gasps, you get out, “That was hilarious.”

“No, fuck you!”

Your legs give out and you sink to the ground, shaking your head. “The look on your face right now.”

He gives you the finger, and you push your giggles away, standing up. You look over towards the others, confusion etched on their faces, except for Spy, who merely stares at Scout in disgust. “She made me do it!” Scout shouted, shoving you into the room.

“Not exactly.” You assert when Spy turns his disgusted look upon you. “Scout and I had a little competition. In the event that I won, I told him he had to kiss you. Obviously, he lost.”

Scout cried out at this jab at his pride. “Not next time, I won’t.”

“Oh, there’s a next time?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna practice on that damn wall, and we’re gonna have a rematch. Higher stakes.”

You raise a brow. “And what will the stakes be this time.”

“If I win, you kiss me.”

“How terrifying.”

He nods. “Yeah, you kiss me, on the lips, for two minutes.”

You smile. “And if I win, you kiss Sasha.”

At this Scout visibly pales, though the sudden laughter from the men behind you gives you encouragement. Scout raises both his hands. “Now wait a minute-”

“You did say to raise the stakes.” Engie calls out.

“You shut up!” Scout turns to you. “Heavy’ll kill me.”

You shrug. “You’ll respawn.”

His mouth opens and closes several times, before he gives you another glare. “Fine. Two days from now. Rematch.” He holds out his hand, and you two shake.

“I look forward to it.” You smile sweetly as he storms away, presumably to begin practicing. 

Giggling, you wander over to the guys, settling yourself on the edge of the couch next to Engie, who laughs, “Ya’ll crazy kids.”

“Hey, he started it.”

“Yeah, but have you ever seen Scout when his pride is hurt? Darlin’, I love ya, but I don’t think you’re gonna win this next one.”

You shrug. “Then I’ll have to kiss him. Not that big a deal. I don’t really care, but the extra training will be good for him.”

Sometime while you were talking Medic looked over suddenly, his attention perked, but by what you didn’t know. Spy stands, drawing your gaze, and he walks over, brows furrowed. “I do ask, petite fille, that next time you make a wager, leave me out of it.”

You frown, but nod. “Whatever you say, Spy.” Once he leaves the room you murmur under your breath. “Just having a little fun, asshole.”

Soldier laughs. “Your definition of fun, and his, are very different, Private.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go take a nap. See you guys later.”

You stand and make your way over to the hall, but stop when you hear Medic coming up behind you. “Sneak, perhaps later you could help me with some paperwork. I, uh, it’s quite a lot, and I understand if you’re busy, I was just wondering…”

He rakes a hand through his hair, the blush from earlier returning with a vengeance. For some reason, your heart skips a beat. “Of course I’ll help. Actually, I’m not really that tired, so if you’d rather get it done now, I have some free time.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

You nod, and he gestures for you to follow. Returning to the sick bay, he motions you over to a large filing cabinet. Upon opening it, you immediately see that no filing has taken place here. With a hefty sigh, you and Medic begin the slow process, pulling the papers out in stacks and attempting to sort based on Medic’s specifications. The documents are everything from medical records to experimentation reports to various medical equipment instructions. Some of said instructions were still bound in clear plastic, as though never having been opened. You hold up one. “Medic, did you even read this?”

He gives a sheepish look. “Nein, not really. I just sort of…go with it. See what happens. It’s all rather exciting.”

His childish glee makes you smile, and you forget your reprimand. You two banter back and forth, discussing past medical procedures and Medic’s favorite experiments. Medic’s initial embarrassment seem to vanish with each passing minute, and you find yourself enjoying his company more than you thought you would. I wasn’t that you disliked Medic, more that there had been little socialization between the two of you in the past. 

When not on the battlefield, he spent a large majority of his time in his office, and the only time you spoke with him was during meals. Never one on one like this, and you were having a great time. You found him charming in his own way. He got excited easily when speaking of his profession, his eyes lighting up and his hands waving around in large motions. When you spoke, he listened intently, focusing on every word and responding in such a way that showed he truly cared about what you had to say.

After several hours you both find that little sorting had gotten done, but Medic doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s not like any of this is vital information.” He muses, peering down at a medical sketch of what appeared to be a whale’s skeleton.

You laugh. “I guess so. Besides, we got all the time the world. We can finish up after tomorrow’s fight.”

He smiles. “Ja, sounds like a good idea. What is tomorrow’s battle anyway?” He glances over at a calendar on the wall, each box filled with handwriting.

“Just training.” You stand and stretch, feeling your sore muscles flex and pop. “Ugh, I was sitting for too long. My back hurts.”

Medic nods over to the cot. “Allow me to help.”

“Oh you don’t have to-”

He gives you a gentle push. “I am the doctor here, and I insist.”

Giving in, you smile and situate yourself on the plush cot, rolling your shoulders. “Stay still.” Medic instructs, placing his hands on your back.

You do as your told as he works his fingers around your spine. It’s clear his medical training had paid off in more ways than healing, and each push of his hand sends a chill down your back along with an ease of the pain. Soon you’re melting under his touch, lightly pressing back whenever he hits a particular pleasurable spot. Against your will, you moan his name lightly, and you freeze, instantly hoping he hadn’t heard it. However, at the sound, his hands still, and your heart rate increases. “Well,” You hop off the cot, not bothering to face him as you step away. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, or later at dinner, I guess. Bye!”

You walk quickly to the door, ignoring his call of, “Sneak, wait!”

Setting into a run, you rush back to your room, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You shut the door behind you, leaning against it with shaking breath. It wasn’t the act alone of moaning his name, but the sudden flits of images that are still racing through your mind that caused you to escape. “Stop it brain.” You beg, hands moving to your temples, hoping to quell the tidal wave of less than innocent thoughts that now leapt to attention.

The thoughts refuse to stop, only increasing at your will for them to cease, until you’re blushing violently against your hands and realizing with growing horror your sudden and irreversible crush on the Medic. “Son of a bitch.”

∞

You can feel the blood pounding in your head, your heart beating faster with each passing second, and the battle hasn’t even started yet. You adjust your gun, retie your boot laces, roll up your red sleeves, anything to keep you from having to meet his gaze. You know he’s staring at you, his eyes like Sniper’s red dot etched into your back. You’d avoided him at dinner last night, feigning weariness, and this morning at breakfast, starting up a shouting match with Scout in order to find ample distraction. You never looked at him directly all morning, though you could still feel his eyes upon you. You know he must feel confused, possibly even hurt, at your sudden disinterest, but all it would take is one look into his pleading face and you’d truly be gone, sucked into this random crush you’re certain you can extinguish. 

You feel a tap on your shoulder, and you turn slowly, a smile touching your lips when you see it’s only Pyro. He holds up his flamethrower, and you can see a rugged cat face painted crudely onto the end. You praise his efforts, though from this angle your eyes can’t help but roam around the room, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you see Medic’s back is turned. “60 seconds!” A voice booms above you, drawing everyone to attention.

You spin around quickly, focusing on the arena beyond the metal fence. Today is just training, nothing to get worried over, the perfect thing to keep your mind off things. Fight and avoid being killed. All that matter today are scores. Simple. You hear the low charge of the Medigun as Medic flashes it around the room, giving everyone a quick burst of extra aid. When you feel the soothing light heat up your own body, you lift a hand, signaling your thanks, and you begin breathing normally again once he’s turned the gun on Pyro.

The Administrator begins to count down from 5, and you grip your gun, dashing out the second the fence opens, eyes glancing around rapidly. This is a new arena, all new routes to learn, and hiding spots to find. It should be fun, and it would be if it weren’t for the ever present Medic whose light has found its way to you again. Forcing back the feeling of turning to look around, you hastily find a place to climb, throwing yourself onto a rocky outcropping and swiftly scaling up. Your endeavor is successful, and eventually you’re too high up for the gun to reach. Pulling yourself onto the large boulder, you crouch low to the ground, ever present of the BLU Sniper, and take a long look around the arena.

It’s much more natural than you’re used to, completely barren of any buildings, wood or concrete. Green grass sweeps down into a small bowl shape, dotted every now and then by large grey boulders, sticking out of the ground like fingers. Around the entire circle arena lay a tall rock wall. Besides the boulders, you can see huge mossy trees, the occasional below ground cave, and a stream running through the entire arena in a sweeping oval. No one save for Sniper could be used to such a natural arena, and you muse briefly on the thought of watching this whole event from your spot rather than fighting. However, a quick flash of blue pulls the thought from your mind.

Leaping from the boulder, you take a diving roll into the ground, just barely avoiding the BLU Scout. “Son of a bitch!” You shout, quickly sending off a shot that gets him right in his neck.

You scramble back from the falling body, though he respawns before he hits the ground. Wincing at the pain in your knees, you fish the mini Medigun from your bag, giving yourself a hasty once over before setting off again. From your mental map given from the bird’s eye view, you make your way to the stream, staying close to the tree line. “Sneak, get down!”

Instinctively you fall to your knees, just missing an arrow that pierces the bark right where your head had been. You follow it back to where the BLU Sniper stood, right before a red grenade sends him back to spawn. RED Demo gives you a thumbs up, which you return before he goes sprinting off after something in the distance. The vastness of this arena keeps you on your toes, though it’s clear you’re distracted after a less than favorable encounter with BLU Pyro sends you back to your own spawn. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to get your head into the fight. Edging out of the spawn door, you take a quick look for spawn campers, instead coming face to face with RED Medic as he spawns in behind you. “Damn BLUs, huh?” You chuckle nervously, keeping your eyes on the foliage around you.

“Ja, this new arena is fascinating. Rather different than usual.”

His voice gives away nothing, sounding the same as always, and you take a chance, finally meeting his gaze. As with his voice, his face holds no negative emotions. On the contrary, he flashes you a genuine smile, which causes your face to heat immediately, and you quickly look away, fishing the mini gun out of your bag. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

He looks sincerely relieved. “I’m so glad it’s of use to you! It makes me very happy that even though I could not be there, I helped to keep you alive.”

His tone is soft, calm, and all together the most incredible voice you’ve ever heard. You throw the gun back into your bag, backing up with your eyes nailed to the grass. “Right, well, better get back to…” 

You let your sentence trail away as you take off at a run, unable to stop yourself from stealing a quick glance behind and watching Medic’s now somber face shrink into the distance. You successfully avoid him for the rest of the day, even at the risk of your own score, and by the end, due to your distinct lack of crying out for his aid, it’s the worst score you’ve recorded. When the Administrator calls the training to an end, and the numbers flash in the teams respective spawns you simply stare at your high death/low kill count. Soldier notices. “Private, what happened out there? I’m disappointed!”

You wave him off, sidestepping the rest of the team as you head towards the locker room. Unfortunately, his rather loud shouting caught the attention of the rest of the guys. “He’s right.” Spy comments, and you shoot him a glare.

“Just wasn’t my best day, I guess.” You push into the locker room, swiftly heading to your locker and grabbing your spare clothes.

“Sneak, you never once came for my help today.” Medic says resolutely, with a new edge to his voice that you refuse to contemplate.

“I just didn’t see you when I got hurt. It’s a large arena. I got lost.” You know your justifications sounds exactly like the excuses they are, but you ignore them, shoving past Scout and into your only safe place: the woman’s shower room.

Dropping your clothes onto the shelf, you take a moment to stare hard into the mirror, forcing your mind to focus on anything but the obviously betrayed tone of Medic’s voice. If he wasn’t hurt before, he certainly is now, and it’s the very fact that it’s all your fault that tears you up inside. Sighing deeply, you walk over to the single shower head hanging from the lone pole in the center of the small room. You turn the water on hot, letting the burning liquid soak into your skin.

It isn’t that you don’t like Medic, clearly that’s not the case as the mere thought of him sends your mind into a whirlwind of giddy emotions. No, it’s the idea of being romantically involved with him, not just him, anyone. Friendship is easy. You find a few things you have in common and boom, friends. Romance is more than that. It’s sharing truly deep things, loving more deeply than friendships entails, or at least loving differently. The idea of moving from friends to lovers is a tantalizing thought, but when placed within the realms of a possible reality, scares you more than you ever grasped.

The water sears your skin, and you subconsciously turn it down when you realize Medic wouldn’t approve of blistering your body. Your hand stills on the handle when you notice how he invades your life even without you trying, and the thought actually makes you smile. In your mind you see his exasperated expression, his doctor side kicking in and immediately forcing you into the sick bay for treatment. However, this image slowly dissolves, replaced by the anguish face and wounded tone you’d experienced just minutes earlier. “Damn it.” You grab hold of the warm shower pole as your knees go weak.

You hurt him, you hurt him without even a word to explain why. You’d left him confused and completely alone after all he’d shown you was kindness. “Fuck.”

You shut the water off, hastily towel drying your hair and changing into a clean uniform. Peaking back into the locker room, you notice a distinct lack of the rest of the guys. As you walk past the door that lead to the men’s shower room, you hear a raucous amount of noise, though any specific words are lost to the steel door. Clenching your fists, you continue on to the teleporter that takes you back to the bases large garage. You pause a moment, contemplating what exactly you’re going to do about this situation, though when you see the light buzzing of the device behind you signaling someone else is coming through, you scurry out of the room. Your fleeing takes you to the stairs, and you climb quickly, holing yourself off in your room where you give a deep breath before stalking over to the window.

Since when did you become so easily skittish, you chastise yourself, leaning on the sill and watching a distant group of birds. You scoff. Since the second you realized even seeing Medic’s face sent you into a panic. The sounds of someone walking heavily down the hall towards you room draw you away from the window, and you heart thumps hard when you hear a loud knocking. Opening the door with baited breath, you relax when you see Scout standing before you. “Heya, toots. We’re thinkin’ of doin’ some celebratin’ on account of a good trainin’ session.” He pauses. “Or, I ‘spose in your case it’d be drinkin’ to forget them lousy scores.”

You take a swing at him, which he dodges. He grins. “Just lettin’ ya know!”

You’re about to decline when you realize a drink is exactly what you need right now. “Whatever, yeah, sure, why not.”

“Good on ya, toots!”

You close your door behind you, though turn to Scout with a raised finger. “Don’t call me that anymore, got it!”

His toothy grin widens. “Makes your heart flutter whenever I say it, huh?”

“No, it makes me gag.” You leave him at your door, though he rushes down the hall to catch up.

“Alright, alright, guess I’m too much for you handle. I am rather manly and-”

You round the corner, and a sudden empty bottle thrown by what seems an already buzzed Demo hits Scout square on the forehead. He stumbles back as you scale the stairs to where Demo stands at the bottom. “We can hear ya strikin’ out from here, lad. Give ‘er a rest!”

You give Demo a thankful grin, eyes wandering the living room to observe the scattered mercs. Heavy stands by Pyro, the two of them holding beer cans, Pyro’s with a long purple straw leading into his mask. Engie sits lazed on the couch, a six pack clutched in one hand and the TV remote in the other. Soldier’s locked in what appears to be a drinking contest with Sniper, Scout running over to them the minute he regains his balance, the young boy picking up a can and attempting to join in. You notice an obvious lack of either Spy or Medic, though a sudden motion right next to your face causes you to jump. Turning off his cloaking device, Spy materializes inches from you, a wine glass in his hand. He lazily swirls the glass, staring down into it and speaking with indifference. “If you are looking for the doctor,” He doesn’t pause at your quiet denials. “I watched him take a large bottle of alcohol and retreat toward the infirmary.”

Your eyes widen and you feel a pang in your gut. As you turn to leave, he murmurs, “He didn’t look well. I’d hurry if I were you.”

You take off at a run, ignoring the curious glances from Heavy and Pyro. Twisting through the halls, you skid to stop in front of the large double doors, pushing through without a second thought. The sight before you forces you into stillness. There Medic lays, leaning sloppily against a filing cabinet, a half empty bottle sloshing in his hand. His coat lay draped over the medical cot, his gloves thrown to different corners of the room, his tie nowhere to be found. He looks up at your entrance, taking a deep drink from the bottle. “Oh, hallo, Sneak.”

His voice is slurred, his accent thick, and his tone makes the pang in your stomach blossom into full blown agony. You step closer, noting the bright red skin around his eyes, his hair that looks like he’s run his hand through it too many times. “Medic, I need to talk to you.”

The glare he gives you is enough to silence you, and you stop a few feet away as he points a shaking finger. “Now you want to talk? Sneak, I’ve been trying to get your attention all day.”

“Medic, I know, I-”

“Nein!” He shouts, grapping hold of the cabinet as he precariously gets to his feet. “What did I do wrong?” The anger dissolves into an injured plea. He unsteadily walks towards you, the bottle tumbling from his hands as he reaches for you, but he seems to rethink his actions, instead dropping his arms loosely at his sides. 

He gives you a begging look. “What did I do, Liebling? Please, Gott, tell me, so I may never do it again! The way you ran from me, you looked so confused, so upset. Sneak, why did you run? What’s wrong with me? What can I change so that I never have to see you avoid me like that? All day, you refused to look at me, like, like I’m some horrid creature. I thought,” He pauses, hands moving to rub his face and sending his glasses to the floor. “During the match, when you thanked me for the gun, I thought perhaps whatever it was, was my imagination. But no… You ran from me again, and then choose to die rather than ask for my help.”

At this you feel your own tears pool behind your eyes, and you wrap your arms around yourself, shutting your eyes as he continues. “You can’t even bare to look at me. Sneak, please.”

You feel his hands on your shoulders, and your eyes shoot open, bringing forth the swell of tears you can no longer hold back. His eyes widen at your sobbing, and he rapidly steps back, his comforting grip flying away from you. “No!” You cry, flinging yourself toward him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Medic, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it! I didn’t! I didn’t want to avoid you, and hurt you, and, God, I’m so sorry! Please, I don’t hate you. Medic, I love you!”

The hush that falls is deafening, but you refuse to let go, fingers tight on Medic’s shirt, your face buried in his chest, your lips whispering your last sentence over and over again, praying that perhaps he can possibly understand how much you want for him to never hurt again. You feel his hands wrap around you, pulling you in closer, his head leaning down to rest atop yours. “Sneak…” He mutters, and you clutch his shirt.

“Medic, I love you so much. I was so scared to, I thought I could get it to go away, I didn’t think for a second that it may hurt you. I’m so sorry! Please, please, please.”

Medic slides to the ground, bringing you down with him, and he settles you into his lap. “Sneak, my Liebling.”

He pulls back, forcing your grip off him, looking down at your red face with the gentlest smile you’d ever seen. He slowly tracks his finger over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “Medic, I love you.” You say again, now clutching the front of his shirt. “I don’t hate you. I-”

He shushes you with a finger on your lips, holding you close and staring down into your eyes. “I was afraid I had pushed you away with my own affection. I’ve… I’ve had strong feelings for you for quite some time.”

You perk up at this. “What, really?”

He laughs quietly, scooping his glasses off the ground. “Ja. I’ve prided myself in keeping them well hidden, though yesterday I felt as though I did a poor job of it. I feared that you saw what I held for you and rejected me. I wanted to apologize, to tell you that I would force the feelings away, but you refused to even meet my gaze.” He sighs, cupping your face as a pained look overcomes him. “I assumed you despised me, would rather die in battle than stay near me…”

You place your hands on his cheeks, shaking your head. “No, Medic, I couldn’t even look at you without getting all flustered. It was…distracting.”

You wait for some anger at this confession, but after a momentary look of shock, he laughs, hard and deep and powerful enough to shake you along with him. “Ah, Liebling, du bist so liebenswert.”

You know no German, though you don’t care as the smile on his face and the way he holds you tightly tells you that you are more than forgiven. After he reins in his laughter he grins down at you. “Would you like to rejoin the others?”

You nod and he stands, grabbing your hand while smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt with the other. You giggle, attempting to help by fixing his hair. He sighs. “It’s a lost cause. Let’s just go. I’m sure they’re all too drunk now to care anyway.”

Heading back out into the hall, you can hear the drunken party from across the base, and when the two of you finally turn the corner into the living room, you laugh at the sight. It seemed Soldier’s and Sniper drinking contest had caught on. Passed out on the floor lay Scout and Solider, nudged every now and then by a giggling Pyro. Engie and Sniper, both swaying dangerously on their feet, stood around Heavy and Demo, both men incredibly red in the face and downing beers like they were going out of style. Medic places one hand to his eyes. “Ugh, mein Gott, they are going to have the worst hangovers.”

You laugh, pulling in his hand and joining in the cheering, not choosing to root on either Merc, instead siding with Medic in his chanting of, “Just don’t fucking die!”


End file.
